She told the story of how she had alarmed them by firing the revolver, and had shut them up in the cellar.
The man, still serious, asked:
"But what am I to do with them at this time of night?"
"Go and fetch Monsieur Lavigne with his men," she replied. "He'll take them prisoners. He'll be delighted."
Her father smiled.
"So he willdelighted."
"Here's some soup for you," said his daughter. "Eat it quick, and then be off."
The old keeper sat down at the table, and began to eat his soup, having first filled two plates and put them on the floor for the dogs.
The Prussians, hearing voices, were silent.
Longlegs set off a quarter of an hour later, and Berthine, with her head between her hands, waited.
The prisoners began to make themselves heard again. They shouted, called, and beat furiously with the butts of their muskets against the rigid trapdoor of the cellar.
Then they fired shots through the venthole, hoping, no doubt, to be heard by any German detachment which chanced to be passing that way.
The forester's daughter did not stir, but the noise irritated and unnerved her. Blind anger rose in her heart against the prisoners; she would have been only too glad to kill them all, and so silence them.
Then, as her impatience grew, she watched the clock, counting the minutes as they passed.
Her father had been gone an hour and a half. He must have reached the town by now. She conjured up a vision of him telling the story to Monsieur Lavigne, who grew pale with emotion, and rang for his servant to bring him his arms and uniform. She fancied she could bear the drum as it sounded the call to arms. Frightened faces appeared at the windows. The citizensoldiers emerged from their houses half dressed, out of breath, buckling on their belts, and hurrying to the commandant's house.
Then the troop of soldiers, with Longlegs at its head, set forth through the night and the snow toward the forest.
She looked at the clock. "They may be here in an hour."
A nervous impatience possessed her. The minutes seemed interminable. Would the time never come?
At last the clock marked the moment she had fixed on for their arrival. And she opened the door to listen for their approach. She perceived a shadowy form creeping toward the house. She was afraid, and cried out. But it was her father.
"They have sent me," he said, "to see if there is any change in the state of affairs."
"Nonone."
Then he gave a shrill whistle. Soon a dark mass loomed up under the trees; the advance guard, composed of ten men.
"Don't go in front of the venthole!" repeated Longlegs at intervals.
And the first arrivals pointed out the muchdreaded venthole to those who came after.
At last the main body of the troop arrived, in all two hundred men, each carrying two hundred cartridges.
Monsieur Lavigne, in a state of intense excitement, posted them in such a fashion as to surround the whole house, save for a large space left vacant in front of the little hole on a level with the ground, through which the cellar derived its supply of air.
Monsieur Lavigne struck the trapdoor a blow with his foot, and called:
"I wish to speak to the Prussian officer!"
The German did not reply.
"The Prussian officer!" again shouted the commandant.
Still no response. For the space of twenty minutes Monsieur Lavigne called on this silent officer to surrender with bag and baggage, promising him that all lives should be spared, and that he and his men should be accorded military honors. But he could extort no sign, either of consent or of defiance. The situation became a puzzling one.
The citizensoldiers kicked their heels in the snow, slapping their arms across their chest, as cabdrivers do, to warm themselves, and gazing at the venthole with a growing and childish desire to pass in front of it.
At last one of them took the riska man named Potdevin, who was fleet of limb. He ran like a deer across the zone of danger. The experiment succeeded. The prisoners gave no sign of life.
A voice cried:
"There's no one there!"
And another soldier crossed the open space before the dangerous venthole. Then this hazardous sport developed into a game. Every minute a man ran swiftly from one side to the other, like a boy playing baseball, kicking up the snow behind him as he ran. They had lighted big fires of dead wood at which to warm themselves, and the, figures of the runners were illumined by the flames as they passed rapidly from the camp on the right to that on the left.
Some one shouted:
"It's your turn now, Maloison."
Maloison was a fat baker, whose corpulent person served to point many a joke among his comrades.
He hesitated. They chaffed him. Then, nerving himself to the effort, he set off at a little, waddling gait, which shook his fat paunch and made the whole detachment laugh till they cried.
"Bravo, bravo, Maloison!" they shouted for his encouragement.
He had accomplished about twothirds of his journey when a long, crimson flame shot forth from the venthole. A loud report followed, and the fat baker fell face forward to the ground, uttering a frightful scream. No one went to his assistance. Then he was seen to drag himself, groaning, on allfours through the snow until he was beyond danger, when he fainted.
He was shot in the upper part of the thigh.
After the first surprise and fright were over they laughed at him again. But Monsieur Lavigne appeared on the threshold of the forester's dwelling. He had formed his plan of attack. He called in a loud voice "I want Planchut, the plumber, and his workmen."
Three men approached.
"Take the eavestroughs from the roof."
In a quarter of an hour they brought the commandant thirty yards of pipes.
Next, with infinite precaution, he had a small round hole drilled in the trapdoor; then, making a conduit with the troughs from the pump to this opening, he said, with an air of extreme satisfaction:
"Now we'll give these German gentlemen something to drink."
A shout of frenzied admiration, mingled with uproarious laughter, burst from his followers. And the commandant organized relays of men, who were to relieve one another every five minutes. Then he commanded:
"Pump!!!"
And, the pump handle having been set in motion, a stream of water trickled throughout the length of the piping, and flowed from step to step down the cellar stairs with a gentle, gurgling sound.
"Pump!!!"
And, the pump handle having been set in motion, a stream of water trickled throughout the length of the piping, and flowed from step to step down the cellar stairs with a gentle, gurgling sound.
They waited.
An hour passed, then two, then three. The commandant, in a state of feverish agitation, walked up and down the kitchen, putting his ear to the ground every now and then to discover, if possible, what the enemy were doing and whether they would soon capitulate.
The enemy was astir now. They could be heard moving the casks about, talking, splashing through the water.
Then, about eight o'clock in the morning, a voice came from the venthole "I want to speak to the French officer."
Lavigne replied from the window, taking care not to put his head out too far:
"Do you surrender?"
"I surrender."
"Then put your rifles outside."
A rifle immediately protruded from the hole, and fell into the snow, then another and another, until all were disposed of. And the voice which had spoken before said:
"I have no more. Be quick! I am drowned."
"Stop pumping!" ordered the commandant.
And the pump handle hung motionless.
Then, having filled the kitchen with armed and waiting soldiers, he slowly raised the oaken trapdoor.
Four heads appeared, soaking wet, four fair heads with long, sandy hair, and one after another the six Germans emergedscared, shivering and dripping from head to foot.
They were seized and bound. Then, as the French feared a surprise, they set off at once in two convoys, one in charge of the prisoners, and the other conducting Maloison on a mattress borne on poles.
They made a triumphal entry into Rethel.
Monsieur Lavigne was decorated as a reward for having captured a Prussian advance guard, and the fat baker received the military medal for wounds received at the hands of the enemy.
Two Little Soldiers
Every Sunday, as soon as they were free, the little soldiers would go for a walk. They turned to the right on leaving the barracks, crossed Courbevoie with rapid strides, as though on a forced march; then, as the houses grew scarcer, they slowed down and followed the dusty road which leads to Bezons.
They were small and thin, lost in their illfitting capes, too large and too long, whose sleeves covered their hands; their ample red trousers fell in folds around their ankles. Under the high, stiff shako one could just barely perceive two thin, hollowcheeked Breton faces, with their calm, naive blue eyes. They never spoke during their journey, going straight before them, the same idea in each one's mind taking the place of conversation. For at the entrance of the little forest of Champioux they had found a spot which reminded them of home, and they did not feel happy anywhere else.
At the crossing of the Colombes and Chatou roads, when they arrived under the trees, they would take off their heavy, oppressive headgear and wipe their foreheads.
They always stopped for a while on the bridge at Bezons, and looked at the Seine. They stood there several minutes, bending over the railing, watching the white sails, which perhaps reminded them of their home, and of the fishing smacks leaving for the open.
As soon as they had crossed the Seine, they would purchase provisions at the delicatessen, the baker's, and the wine merchant's. A piece of bologna, four cents' worth of bread, and a quart of wine, made up the luncheon which they carried away, wrapped up in their handkerchiefs. But as soon as they were out of the village their gait would slacken and they would begin to talk.
Before them was a plain with a few clumps of trees, which led to the woods, a little forest which seemed to remind them of that other forest at Kermarivan. The wheat and oat fields bordered on the narrow path, and Jean Kerderen said each time to Luc Le Ganidec:
"It's just like home, just like Plounivon."
"Yes, it's just like home."
And they went on, side by side, their minds full of dim memories of home. They saw the fields, the hedges, the forests, and beaches.